Death and the Maiden
by Dreamer Of Impossible Dreams
Summary: Summary: On the streets of Victorian London, a murderer is on the loose and Elizabeta Hénderváry decides to take matters into her own hands. As she gets sucked deeper into the mystery, she realises that she might be in over her head. Victorian AU, No main pairings, hints of side PoLiet, Fem!SuFin, USUK.
1. Chapter 1

{Chapter 1}

8th of September, 1858

Murder mysteries have always been Elizabeta's favourite kind of book. She savoured every twist of the plot, every surprise around the corner and every suspense filled moment like a delicacy, the residue lingering long after it had gone. She sighed contentedly as she prised open the front cover of her newest addition to her immense collection of books which were all currently tacked in a ceiling to floor mahogany bookshelf that dominated her room. This book had been brought from the second hand book shop on the corner across from her house. It is a ratty-tatty shop with paint peeling of the interior and exterior walls and rotting floor boards that emitted a creak that pierced the ever present silence of the shop when you stood on them. The owner of the shop was a young man by the name of Arthur. He is very eccentric for his age, wearing clothes that hang limply from his slim frame, rather like that of a beggar. His sandy blond hair covered his unusually thick, dark eyebrows which were his prominent facial features. His deep green eyes are those of a man who has seen many a century pass, containing many great tragedies. He is married to a spindly, gossip loving woman, three years his senior named Alice, who works as a launderer. Their sole child, Peter, is a boisterous eight year old who is always picking fights with other children, much to his parents' horror. Elizabeta was very fond of them and their old shop.

"Elizabeta, darling. It is unbecoming for a girl to be holed up in her room reading books." Elizabeta's mother glided into the room and took the book from her causing her daughter to cry out in indignation;

"Mother! Must you! I had only just started that one! DON'T LOSE MY PAGE!" She snatched the book back and hugged it to her chest, glaring at her mother. "And I am sixteen, Mother, I shall do as I please!"

"Not whilst you live under your father's roof. Once you have your own house, then you can go gallivanting around reading books and keeping up the façade that you can flourish in this world without a man (Which we both full well know you can't). No, whilst you are in this house you will act like a proper lady." Elizabeta rolled her eyes and unwillingly handed the book into her mother's out stretched hand. The woman took it and glided out of the room, stopping in the doorway are calling over her shoulder: "I don't want you going to that old nasty bookshop again, and meeting with those unsightly people. You must learn the responsibilities of being a woman, and if I have to cut the problem at its root then so be it." The door swung shut with a firm _click. _

"Argh!" Elizabeta flopped onto her bed in frustration, her skirt and petticoats fanning around her and floating over her head, she struggled with them for a few moments until admitting defeat and lying tangled under her cumbersome skirts.

"If only I had been born a boy." She whispered fiercely. "Then nobody would question my right to read and to learn." She half-heartedly pummelled her suppressor. Tears pricking at the corners of her bright green eyes. All of her life she had begged her mother and father to let her go to school, like all of her friends (in her younger years she had dressed in breeches and shirts just like her male counterparts until her mother put a stop to her boyish demeanour), but her parents had said a firm no and spoke of it no longer. "_She must learn womanly activities such as sewing and the goings on of a household." _Her mother had ordered to her more impressionable husband behind closed doors, when they thought Elizabeta wasn't there.

"_But men these days are favouring a more learned wife." _Elizabeta's father objected. Her mother dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand.

"_Pish, it's just a passing fad. By the time our Elizabeta is to be married, men will want an obedient and timid wife, just as they always had, just as they always will." _She replied haughtily.

Elizabeta scowled to herself, the only thing that kept her sane were her books. Her mother only taught her to read all that an "obedient and faithful wife" would need. So she taught herself to read from her father's records and later the books lent to her by Arthur.

"Well this is a compromising situation isn't it?" A familiar male voice taunted.

_Gilbert! _Elizabeta hurriedly sat up, wrestling the material before finally freeing herself. Her face flaming, hoping against all hopes that he hadn't seen her… _unmentionables._

"W-who let you in? What do you want?" She sputtered fiercely.

"Your Mother let me in. She was almost in tears when I approached her. She said that you two had an argument, she entreated me to talk some sense into you." He grinned showing his unnaturally pointed canines. He was dressed smartly in red with gold and black accents. His snowy white hair fell over his crimson eyes which at the moment glinted mischievously.

Elizabeta scowled "Which I assume you will refrain from doing, and instead gloat over my defeat."

Gilbert chuckled, "Dear Eliza, you know me too well. _Keseseses, _you are learning a lot. It must be those books you consume." He laughed again as he saw her scowl deepen. "Oh, was that a tender subject? It must be after your Mother, how did she phrase it? Oh, that's right! _Cut the problem at the roots…." _He danced out of the way with a gleeful grin as a pillow flew towards him.

"Would you kindly leave?" Elizabeta growled through gritted teeth, pointing at the door.

"Anything for you sweetie." He winked coyly and exited the room.

* * *

Elizabeta stomped down the stairs, her heeled boots making loud, determined noises that reverberated down the stairwell. She glared at the gaily painted portraits on the wall, watching them turn a muddy brown and falling off the cream wall in her mind's eye. This gave her little satisfaction as when she opened her eyes, they were still hanging there, happy and smiling. She suppressed a roar of frustration that broiled inside of her. She instead turn to making as much noise as possible, kicking the walls and pushing over vases which smashed with a loud crash.

"Elizabeta!" Her mother's head, contorted with fury and red as a tomato appeared from behind one of the many doors lining the hallway. "We have a guest! Stop throwing a tantrum!

A low laugh boomed through the air, coming from the doorway which lead to the drawing room.

_Ugh, _Elizabeta thought disgustedly, _Francis. _

Francis Bonnefoy was a Frenchman whose family immigrated to London during the French Revolution. He made his wealth in what he claimed to be a small, honest and respectable business. But in reality he owned a chain of brothels, everyone knew, but no one notified the police out of respect for Francis's father who brought much business to the town.

"_Ohonhonhon, _Ugor you are too amusing. You must regale some more of your excellent stories to me."

Elizabeta could hear her father's voice swell with pride. "Y-you really think so?"

"Of course, _mon ami! _You are utterly hilarious!"

Elizabeta scowled darkly. Francis was always trying to con someone out of their money with his sweet words and handsome smile.

Elizabeta's mother glanced at the broken vase with a distraught look. "My vase! That was an heirloom piece! My grandmother-"

"Was an old bag!" Elizabeta ran out into the kitchen slamming the door behind her, cutting off her mother's shocked gasp.

She ran through the kitchens knocking over silver platters and shattering crystal wine glasses. She knocked into Franz Edelstienthe chef, who was carrying an already precariously balanced trifle. He fell over and landed with a thump on the tile floor, the trifle came next, landing in his lap with a great _schloop. _

"You ruined my art, you fiend!" He yelled, his face steaming with rage and shaking his fist.

Elizabeta ignored him, running even faster still. She turned back to look at the now mess of a kitchen. She then ran into a wall. Or at least what felt like a wall. She looked up at the thing that stood in front of her from her position on the ground. It was Ludwig, the town's sole black smith and a good friend of her father.

"Hello Miss Hénderváry." He rumbled. A smile playing on the corner of his lips. "Going somewhere?"

"No." She glared at him furiously.

"Good. Can you go to the pub to get a flask of champagne? I have a feeling your_ Vatti_ will be in need of it."

* * *

Glad to have any excuse to get out of the house, Elizabeta accepted the errand and walked out into the brisk autumn day. Elizabeta hugged herself, wishing that she had brought her warm coat that her Apa brought from Siberia last winter. She walked past Von Bok's tailor shop and stood stock still, listening hard, muffled shouting noises issued from the lace framed windows. Elizabeta jumped back in surprise as the door flung open and a small flailing body was hurled out.

"And stay out!" Yelled the shop owner who was standing in the doorway, promptly slamming the door.

Elizabeta turned to see who had been expelled from the dress shop and was not surprised to see her best friend Feliks Lukasiewicz jumping up and shaking his shoulder length blond hair out of face.

"I see that Eduard has had enough of you sulking around his shop, Feliks." Elizabeta smiled tauntingly at him.

"I was not sulking! I was admiring his dresses." The blond turned away crossing his arms.

Elizabeta lifted her eyebrow questioningly. Feliks scowled at her.

"I only tried on one! It was so beautiful and so, so soft." He sighed with glassy eyes, as if mesmerised by the memory. "And then he wanted me to take it off! He said that I couldn't try it on if I wasn't going to buy it. Then I offered to buy it and he laughed at me!" He gestured angrily at himself. "He laughed. At me!" Frustrated tears pricked at his eyes, he backhanded them off angrily. Elizabeta slung her arm around his shoulder, brushing off a stray leaf from his shoulder.

"Don't worry Feliks. Some people are extraordinarily closed minded." She gave him a squeeze and let go. "Come along, I'm running an errand for my father, do you want to come with me?"

Feliks sniffed and nodded, slightly smiling. Elizabeta grinned back, hooking her arm into his. His smile widened, "You should have seen Eduard when I walked out in that dress, his jaw was touching the ground, and then his face went the brightest red I've ever seen!"

Elizabeta laughed, she could picture Eduard's reaction clearly. Feliks joined in and soon they were unsteady on their feet with laughter, their cheeks hurting from the strain of smiling continuously.

* * *

**A/N: 'Ello there. First chapter done! I spent ages on this one. And yes, this is my first Fanfic so right now is a significant moment in the history of me. **

**Few things to point out:**

**Explaining the *. For those with a dirty mind and those who are unknowledgeable about the Victorian era, the word unmentionables is referring to their knickers.**

**Yes, Arthur is married to Fem!England. I couldn't think of anyone else to pair him up with. Why not Fem!USA? He comes up later in the story.**

**The reason Poland doesn't have his Valley girl voice is because it would've sounded stupid in Victorian London.**

**Franz is the name I'm using for Kugelmugel**

**Hungary's parents are OCs.**

**When Germany says Vatti he is referring to Hungary's father.**

**Thanks for reading everyone, and also feel obliged to review. (Not really but please do!)**


	2. Chapter 2

{Chapter two}

The Lazy Wombat lay solitary on a dark, shabby street, music and laughter streaming out of its gilded windows. Elizabeta looked up at the imposing building, shivering slightly. The pub used to be a theatre, the most famous in town. People came from all over London to sit in its velvet lined seats and walk on its plush carpets; it was a luxury that did not come every day. But it went out of business after the last owner allegedly murdered his wife in a fit of passion after discovering her with her lover. It now held a mismatched assortment of drunkards and countrymen, a far cry from its once esteemed crowd. Elizabeta glanced at Feliks who shivering slightly in the brisk wind. She hooked her arm around his shoulders, smiling at the gratitude that flashed across his face. They crossed the threshold into the building with synchronised steps. The stark contrast between the outward and the in, sent Elizabeta mentally reeling. A large fireplace crackled with life in the back corner warming the room, a long, mahogany bar ran the length of the room with inhabitants at every place, drinking and laughing. Round tables were scattered around the room, with small barrels acting as seats. The bartender was a large, muscular man with an unusual accent, something akin to that of an Australian convict; a large, triumphant smile graced his tanned face. He was talking to a young man, with strangely curled hair that looked like ram's horns. He was grimacing as if he had just lost an important argument. Elizabeta walked over to them, glancing back at Feliks who was standing in the door ashen faced. She looked at him questioning and motioned him to come over. He shook his head furiously. Elizabeta ran over grabbed him by the hand and dragged him in.

"What's the matter with you?" She hissed under her breath. Feliks kept his lips firmly closed. She tugged at his arm with more force, his sudden sullen attitude frightening her. He gazed at her pleadingly, motioning towards the door with his head.

"Fine!" She whispered, her anger giving out to pity. She released his arm and he quickly made for the door. She stormed over to the bar and slammed the money that Ludwig had previously given her onto the bench.

"Aw, is the little miss angry?" Crooned the bar owner mockingly.

She glared furiously at him. "One flask of champagne." She spat.

"Now aren't you a little young-"

"You'll find all of the money there." She interrupted him.

His eyes lit up at the prospect of all of the money that lay in that bag. "Well, I guess it ain't my business." He turned back to the man he was talking to. "Would you excuse me? Business transactions and all." The man muttered something under his breath that made the bartender laugh heartily and then walked over into the shadows of the back corner, striking up a conversation with a person that was apparently there. That or he was talking to the musty darkness that lingered there.

"I'm Jefferson Cook, but my friends call me Jett." The bartender stuck out his dirty, blackened hand, Elizabeta hesitantly shook it, subtly wiping her hand on her skirts after he released it. "That was Kiwi and that old codger in the corner is Alfred."

Elizabeta scrunched her eyes and stared hard at the corner. She could just make out the figure of a leggy man slouched on a stool, holding something that looked like a bottle. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Can I please just have the champagne? I need to be somewhere." She begged glancing longingly at the door, wishing she had escaped with Feliks.

Jett shrugged "Suit yourself. Just trying to be friendly" He walked through the door behind the bar. Elizabeta slumped into a chair dejectedly.

"Ya' know, I saved six people in the Crimean war." She jumped. The man -Alfred- who she thought was still slumped in the corner, was standing behind her, slurring into her ear.

"E-excuse me?" She sputtered, falling off her chair in surprise.

Kiwi, who was standing behind Alfred, laughing, gripped his shoulders and pulled him back. "Come off it mate, she isn't going to believe any of your tall tales." Kiwi grinned at her.

"What tall tales? It's all true!" Alfred leered at him. "I was in the war, I saved people's lives, I was a-"

"A hero." Kiwi rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we get it."

A loud roar issued from behind the bar. "You! Get away from her!" Jett stormed at Alfred, champagne bottle in hand. Alfred backed off quickly and lurked back to his corner. "Bloody Alfred, scaring away customers." Jett muttered darkly wringing his hands. He turned his head and looked at Elizabeta as if she had come out of mid-air. "Oh yeah, here's your champagne, enjoy." He threw the bottle at her and stormed back into the backroom. Elizabeta ran out of the bar holding the bottle tight.

She burst out into the rapidly darkening evening rounding on Feliks, who was standing just outside the door, with a dark fire in her eyes. "You left me in there! Alone!" She loomed over him, "Who knows what could have happened to me. For all you knew I could have been assaulted, my body shoved into a back cupboard!"

"Sorry." He muttered, shrinking back against the brick wall as if he was trying to melt into it.

Elizabeta stood back, her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. "Well?"

Feliks looked at her quizzically.

"I'm waiting!" Her foot rapping against the cobbled street with an echoing _rapraprap._

"What happened back there?" Feliks muttered that he didn't want to talk about it. Elizabeta rolled her eyes and stormed away. When Feliks realised that she wasn't coming back, he hurried after her.

Feliks angrily kicked the leaves that littered the cobbled path. Was it his fault that whenever he saw strangers he was powerless to do anything but flee? Was it his fault that the sight of large crowds sent cold tendrils winding into his stomach? He harrumphed angrily. He was concentrating hard on stomping on the leaves, which made a satisfying crunch when he stood on them, so hard that he didn't notice Elizabeta stopping until he had smacked into her from behind. She pulled him behind a large oak tree which easily concealed both of their slim frames.

"What are you doing?" He hissed. She motioned for him be quiet.

"It's him." Elizabeta glanced around the side of the tree, quickly whipping back, her face flaming.

"Who?" Feliks tried to get a glimpse of the mysterious person that made Elizabeta react so violently but she pulled him back.

"Gilbert." She glared at him, daring him to laugh.

"What?" Feliks had only known Gilbert for a short time, they were introduced by Elizabeta herself. The albino was very intimidating when first introduced, even more so when one got to know him. His inflated ego made one feel the size of an ant, and his curiously sized canines were mildly threatening. In the way of Elizabeta and his relationship, Feliks knew that they had been friends since they were young. Why would Elizabeta be afraid to meet him in the street?

"He-he caught me in a bad moment." She whispered out the side of her mouth, her blush deepening. She peeked around the side of the tree and let out a great sigh. "He's gone into the butchers. Come on! Quickly, before he comes out again." She dragged him out from behind the tree and down the street. As they ran past the butchers, Feliks caught a glimpse of Gilbert talking merrily with the Vargas brothers who ran the shop, the elder brother, Feliciano, was laughing and smiling whilst the younger, Lovino, was scowling as if a bad smell had just drifted into his shop. Feliks ran off grinning broadly.

**A.N. Salve!**

**I had fun writing this chapter :D **

**Just a few things to point out:**

**1. THIS IS NOT A HUNGARYxPOLAND STORY!**

**2. Not sure why I made the Vargas brothers butchers, I just thought that Lovino would have fun letting his angst out on dead animals ;)**

**3. This is also not a PruHun fic**

**4. And I have no idea what happened to Alfred. The flow took me there.**

**I'm listening to Exo for the first time at the moment and I think I just melted. THEIR VOICES ARE PERFECT!**

**That's all, so yeah. Please review/favourite/follow or whatever.  
Vale!**


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